You Can't
by TwoSentsOneREM
Summary: A look inside the head of everyone's favorite violent violet child murderer.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Keep the Children Happy

* * *

I stared into the mirror of my tired reflection, and thought. I wasn't even sure what I was thinking about but whatever it was, it was very important to me and made me slightly uncomfortable, so I decided to think about something slightly more pleasant. I began thinking of my new job. It was a small job with minimal human interaction which was fantastic for me. I was never a "people" person. I don't understand how they work, so I'd rather just stay away from others as much as possible. The job was being a security guard at a small place called Fredbear's Family Diner , where children would play and have parties while animatronics made sure they were happy as well as entertaining them with songs or dances or cupcakes. All I would have to do is stand outside and make sure the kids were happily _inside_ of the diner, which was simple enough. I straightened my night shirt and held my head high as if I was an authority figure. In this posture, I recited the mantra that had been plastered into my brain by all of the paperwork I had to sign to get the job in the first place.

"A happy kid means a happy parent, and a happy parent will happily part with their money." I repeated it until I believed it, which took quite a while.

My fingernails scraping against a long healed scar on my left arm (a nervous habit of mine) made me eventually notice the time and curse at my inattentiveness. It was 4:40 AM and my job was supposed to start at 5 AM. The place was a half an hour away. I threw on my suit, grabbed my flashlight, strapped on my equipment, and ran out the front door straight into my car. I pressed the button to open the door, and pulled on the handle. Nothing. I pressed the button and tried the door again, but the door had no intention of making this easy. After several more attempts, I began to get annoyed. I would have been halfway to work if I hadn't been practicing in the mirror. I kicked the door in frustration, only to realize that car's don't feel pain. I, on the other hand, clutched my foot in agony. I grabbed the handle and yanked it as hard as I could. The door flew open, almost off it's hinges. With a sigh of both relief and annoyance, I slid into the car and pressed my foot down on the gas, breaking several speed restrictions and tailgating practically the whole way down. Luckily most of the roads were unoccupied due to the early hour, so zipping through traffic like was like a knife through butter.

Still, I arrived at work 10 minutes late and was greeted nearly immediately by a burly man with very meaty hands gripping tightly to a small flashlight. He looked confused and startled, but most of all, he looked furious. I was going to drive passed him, but the gates at the entrance and exits of the diner were closed, so I rolled down my window and allowed him to walk up to the car.

"And who the hell are you?" He barked into my car, shining the light directly into my face. I shielded my eyes from the glare, blinking in surprise at the sudden change of brightness. I found myself mindlessly scratching the pale scar on my arm again and I sat on my hand in annoyance. I thought I had

"Lila," I held my hand out the window, "Vincent Lila. I'm the new security guard."

"Oh." The man looked at his watch, looked at me, then looked back to his watch again. "You're supposed to be here at six, you do realize that, right? And the place doesn't open until 7."

"Six?" I looked at him blankly. The man nodded then looked away and turned off his light, embarrassed. "Alright. I'll go eat breakfast and be back by then."

"At this time of night?" The man was clearly impressed.

"iHop is open 24/7."

He nodded, looking to the back of my car as if he was searching for something. I smiled awkwardly, then turned around and headed back towards the small shopping center where the iHop was located.

In a half an hour later, my plate which had been piled high with pancakes was empty and my stomach was full, although my drink of cherry soda was only half finished.

"Would you like the check, sir?" A melodic voice rang out in the quiet of the restaurant. I looked up at a woman who couldn't be older than 16 with a small pad and paper. She looked nice; an employee uniform fitting her form well. She was most likely beautiful, but I didn't care. It was too early to care.

"Yeah." I sent a thin lipped smile her way and thanked her for the meal, slipping my credit card into the card slot. She smiled back, then I went back to messing with the cherry soda and straw wrapper, filling it up until it gushed out onto the table. The table tilted across from me and I looked up to see Joseph Fink, a man who had been working beside me for 3 years and told me that there was an opening at Fredbear's, plop down across from me, a large, toothy grin stretched across his face.

"So, you took the job?"

"Yeah," I grinned at him. He was my favorite coworker at my previous job, "All thanks to you."

"Damn right!" He laughed a hearty laugh. There was a short pause. It began to make me uncomfortable, so I broke the quiet.

"I don't even know why places like that need security guards."

Joseph looked over his shoulder and shifted in his seat, something that he did when he had some particularly good gossip that he wanted to share, so I leaned forward, acting engaged.

"Well, there have been rumors about kids being killed at the diner since the beginning. Luckily, I've worked there almost the whole time this place has been running, and haven't seen one kid die." That wasn't saying much. It had only been a few years. "But there was one thing that happened early in my employment, which caused the need for an abundance of security guards." He looked around again, then leaned forward until our noses were nearly touching. "One of our employees, a teenager employee, was… let's just say a partier, shall we? He would come in to the diner shit-faced drunk for at least a day a week. His little brother hated it there, but he was forced to come for his birthday party. I have no clue why. The kids terror was obvious. Maybe they were sadistic people who loved to see the terror on his face when he walked through the doors. I don't know. But anyway, on this kids birthday, he comes into the diner clinging onto his brothers hand. Of course, I could tell he was drunk. So I told him to cool off in the back room. There's one for employees only, so I thought it would be safe enough. That was, until the animatronics came to the stage to perform.

"At first, it was going great, except that the birthday boy was hiding under the table. Then, we hear his older brother talking loudly over the song. I looked over and saw the big brother and a few of his friends dressed like the animatronics of Bonnie the bunny, Chicka the chicken, and Foxy the pirate.

"'C'mon, little bro!' He says. 'Uncle Freddy wants to give you a kiss!' The kid starts to scream. We all run up to try and stop him, but it's too late. All we hear is a crunch. You see, Freddy was in the middle of his song, so when they put the hids head up to Freddy's face, his jaw crunched down on that poor kids skull. Luckily, we were able to get an ambulance in time, and he's still alive now. But that incident left him without a frontal lobe. That's why they retired the old suits and use mostly the golden ones now." Joseph leaned back, looking serious and nervous as the waitress came back with a check. He ordered some breakfast for himself, but kept talking to me, so I stayed with him. We chatted about nothing in particular for the next 10 minutes, then departed for work in our separate cars, arriving at practically the same time.

* * *

When we arrived at the new job, Joseph introduced me to several of his colleagues and friends. I nodded, shook their hands, and pretended to be interested in their conversations. Every few seconds, I checked to make sure that Joseph was still there. He seemed to be happy, laughing and joking with a few of the others.

At a quarter to 7, he slipped through the small crowd, patting my shoulder reassuringly as he left. I tried to chase after him, but a few people began talking to me, asking me questions about my life, how I was raised, where I had worked before. My scar began to tingle as I began to shuffle back and forth onto my toes, then back to my heels, trying to avoid scratching the scar. I told them that I was just out of high school, but my summer jobs would carry through for most of the year. (False. My parents had amassed a large fortune from my grandparents, who then gave it all to a charity because I avoided going back to school. If I had stayed in college, I wouldn't have had to work a day in my life.) I told them I had grown up in a small town, that I had met Joseph in my first job. (False. I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland. Joseph was a security guard in a place I had tried to steal from. Instead of arre) Small talk flowed seamlessly from my mouth like water from a fountain. Everyone seemed so happy and welcome that I thought I should be, as well. A smile remained on my lips the whole time until the manager told us to go to our posts. Several of the people walked back into a strange room in the back of the diner, but one of the 3 security guards, excluding me, walked to the entrance. Joseph reappeared, now fully dressed in one of the spring-locked animatronic suits. He gave me a confident smile before shoving on a large mask and disappearing into a golden Fredbear suit. Confused, I called for the boss, Jerry, a middle aged man with graying hair, and he nodded, jogging across the room.

"What'd ya need?" He grinned.

"Uh…" I crossed my arms to avoid scratching at that infernal itchy scar, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, "I'm new here, so I don't know where or when my station is."

"Oh!" He laughed. "Your station is at the entrance. You take the first shift on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, the second shift on Tuesday and Thursday."

"Thanks." I opened the door and went directly outside, standing on the opposite side as the other guard. I nodded at him and he nodded at me. This started our very distant and strange friendship, if that's what you would call it. We never really talked or really did anything apart from work, so it was more like an acquaintanceship.

For a while, it was the same thing over and over again. I'd get to iHop at 5:30 AM to meet up with Joseph, go to the diner at 6:00 AM and either go straight to the back room or to my post, then leave work at 8:30 PM. I faked a few smiles, complimented a few people, chatted about nothing in particular, and usually everyone was happy. Usually. After work, I went home and watched TV until I fell asleep. Rinse and repeat.

The child aspect was a little hard for me. They were too loud and wanted too much attention all of the time, no matter what they were doing. Sometimes they would talk to me about strange things like monsters under the floor or the animatronics going insane and destroying the world. I indulged their fantasies. I played along with them, smiling and laughing at the right times.

Days went by. Then weeks. Then months. They seemed like exactly the same dull day over and over again. Talking with Joseph was always a pleasure, true, but even his eccentric personality couldn't counter the repetitiveness of the daily life of a security guard at a family diner. Every so often, a child would try to run off, but they had small legs and were quite easy to over power. A few quick strides and they were unhappily back in their parents arms in no time. I was bored and annoyed with my work, but it gave me money and a place to be during the work hours, so I didn't complain.

The worst days were birthdays. There would be about 5-10 different snot-nosed brats being dropped off by their parents and left to run around, screaming at the top of their lungs and waiting for the animatronics to feed them more cake. I was so relieved that I wasn't in the spring-locked suits like Joseph during those shifts.

After work we would sometimes go out for a drink then just awkwardly sit at the end of the bar, far away from anyone else, and chat about small things. Most of the time, I wouldn't even have to open my mouth. That was one of the good things about Joseph. He could make up both sides of a conversation by himself. He would often complain about the children's lack of respect for the workers inside of the suits, and I would nod. Still, his job was to keep the children happy, and he sure was able to accomplish it. The parties all left with nearly 100% satisfaction rate, and our boss couldn't be happier. It was said that he might increase our wages in a few months. I could really use the money.

* * *

Now, I was 8 months into the job. Most of the other employees thought I was pleasant and easy to talk to, and I thanked them for their compliments, returning them with smooth lies about them. Today, I had accidentally slept in, but luckily it was a Tuesday, so all I had missed was breakfast with Joseph, which was obvious by his annoyed voicemail messages oh my phone. I was driving to work for the late shift when I got a call from my manager. I looked at my mobile, confused, and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi!" Jerry's enthusiastic voice startled me. "I just wanted to warn you about something."

"Yeah?" I slammed on the brakes to avoid a pedestrian. They should have learned to watch cars from their parents!

"Stan isn't here today." He sighed. "He called in sick. Said it was a bad case of the flu, and that he wouldn't be back for a few days, just in case."

"Alright. Thanks for telling me." I turned into the parking lot and parked the car near the entrance. "I'll be heading inside in a second." I hung up the phone and waited for a second before leaving my car and trying to wrap around the back entrance. The sound of crying hit my ears like a sliced onion stings the eyes. This was not going to help my foul mood.

A child was curled up near the back of the building, bawling his eyes out. He wore nice, clean clothing, so he was most likely a customer who was about to leave. So why the hell wasn't he happy? I was sure it wasn't Joseph's fault. It must just have been the kid. But how do you make a child stop crying? I was at a loss for words, so I decided to confront him.

"Hey, kid." I walked over to him and looked around. The roads were deserted along the road at the back of the diner. "Why aren't you inside."

"They don't want me!" He sobbed. This confused me. If he meant Fredbear and Bonnie, or Joseph and Tim, he should know that it's their job to entertain him.

"You're being ridiculous. Just go inside." I tried to pick him up, but as soon as I touched his shoulders, he began to scream, kicking and flailing out of my grip. This child was REALLY starting to piss me off.

"Stop struggling!" My grip tightened around arms and I was able to get him to his feet. "You'll be happy inside! We're supposed to keep you happy. Stop crying!"

"Let go!" He shrieked, but I had gripped so tightly that he couldn't get out of it. Then, he began to scream while he was sobbing. What did he think he was doing? This kid was going to get me fired.

Why didn't he stop crying?

Why didn't he stop crying?!

Anger like I have never felt before began to bubble up in my stomach. The world went red and I spun the child around. I was furious. The anger coiled up in me like a snake, and suddenly I couldn't hold it in any longer.

 _Authors Notes_

 _Heya, guys! My name is REM (aka SuperwholockedREM) and I'm one of the two writers of this story. We've been working on this thing for a while and we've actually had to start the whole thing over a couple of times before we were able to get it back to where it was before._

 _I don't know about TwoSents, but this is the hardest thing I have ever tried to write. As you will probably be able to tell from our notes, neither of us are sociopaths or psychopaths. It was at first, just a ridiculous challenge, and the POV was actually one of the things that caused us to restart. I kinda wanted to write it in third person, but TwoSents wanted it to be in first person, and I am ridiculously indecisive about everything, so you can guess who won that round. It's a lot easier to write about the outer appearances of people that you have never had the misfortune of being than to write their inner most thoughts. But I was finally able to pull my crap together, sit down in my chair, and do a decent amount of research on sociopaths. Only then could I even attempt to write from Vincent's perspective._

 _Anyone who gets the reference to WTNV gets a virtual hug and a virtual pint of ice cream._

 _Anyway, for my other readers from my other account: I PROMISE you, NtH will be completed eventually! I... just... haven't gotten bitten on the butt by a plot bunny, yet. I want to wrap it up relatively soon, but all of the endings I was previously thinking of were really long to get to! I never forgot about you guys. I just have been... busy... with stuff... and... OKAYITWASMARKIPLIERANDHOMESTUCKANDFNAF. CaA, I am going to wrap that one up soon! I know. About two years in the making, then a little less than a year long hiatus. What an awful, terrible writer. I apologize profusely all I can do is hope and PRAY that you all still think I'm worth it. Not sure which one I'll work on first. We'll just have to see!_

 _I know, I know. I'm still that whiny author. Please consider reviewing, following, and/or favoriting! Seriously, it boosts up our production by 10 fold. Or at least for me it does!_

 _Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on the other side!  
_ _REM_

 _And this is the second author, Twosents. A lot of you have probably never heard my name before. Trust me when I say that this is for the best. I am the second of the two writers that worked and is working on "You Can't"._

 _Now writing takes a boatload of effort, I can say. I probably wouldn't have had the motivation to write this without REM practically carrying both our weights (haha, thanks REM). This was definitely a challenge to start, but I feel like one we got the ball rolling, it rolled itself down a hill, into a chasm, through hell, and back out the other side. We have plans for you, Dear, unsuspecting Reader. Big plans._

 _Hopefully this marks the beginning of my not-terrible writing carrier. That would be great. And constructive criticisms would be greatly appreciated. I hope you follow our story to the bitter end. I'd appreciate any follows/favorites. It let's us know we aren't just screaming words into the deep, vast abyss that is the internet. We're screaming words at the people who dwell in the deep, vast abyss that is the internet._

 _Something Big is coming, Dear Reader._

 _Something Big. ~T.S._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two  
Security Tapes

* * *

Red hot rage blinded me. I threw the child to the ground, and let out all of my rage, hitting him with nearly every breath I took.

"Stop!" He tried to push himself up, but I shoved him onto the ground, keeping him down. Tears streamed down his face.

"Crying!" I felt something snap.

"Stop!" Hit.

"Crying!" Snap.

"Stop!" Snap.

"Crying!" Snap.

Suddenly, the kid stopped struggling. He went limp on the ground, like puppet without strings. His eyes were glassy, staring past me. His expression was so peaceful that it seemed like he was asleep. But I knew he wasn't.

I had killed him.

This realization that I had killed him surprisingly didn't startle me as much as the next thought that floated through my mind.

If I got caught, I'd go to jail.

My heart raced in my chest. The body lay on the pavement, a pale, empty suit of what was once a crying child. I heard a whir and I looked up at the roof to see a security camera pointed directly at the scene. Cursing, I slipped on some gloves to cover my blood stained hands. If I didn't go in, they would be able to play the tapes from the time of the crime, and I would be screwed. If I did go in and someone caught me messing with the tapes, I would be screwed as well.

I went back into my car and stepped on the pedal. My tires screeched off into the clear summer afternoon as my car flew off towards my house. The white gloves became slowly tinged with rose as the blood began to leak through the fabric, making me wish I had bought darker gloves. As soon as I got home, I bolted into the front door, hoping that my neighbors didn't catch sight of my filthy, stained clothes. Instantly, I pulled off my shirt, pants, and gloves and threw them in the wash to try and get the blood out of them. While the wash was running, I turned on the water for the tub and filled it as high as it would go. After folding my clothes and taking a long, relaxing bath, I found that I had a message on the answering machine.

My initial thought was that I should pack my stuff. That somehow the cops had found out, and I would be on the run for the rest of my life. I didn't have time for a second thought before my hand reached out and hit the play button.

"Hey, Vince." I breathed a sigh of relief. The voice was a very familiar, warming voice that made my fear disappear. Joseph wouldn't have known about it. "I just wanted to call to tell you not to come by the diner. There-" He coughed, and it sounded like he had been crying. "There was a death. One of the regulars was killed. He is… was such a sweet kid. I can't believe he's really gone." There was a pause. "The police'll come by tomorrow. You gotta come on time. If you don't, it'll look bad. I was originally going to call you about your absence at breakfast, but since you weren't here all day, I figured you were sick or something. Uh." He coughed, and it sounded as if he was choking down a sob. "See you tomorrow."

The message ended, and the machine left off with a dull tone. I sat down, my head in my hands. They had already found the body, and would start going through the video feed from the scene of the crime the next day. If I was to get out of this as a free man, I would have to change the tapes before the cops got a their hands on it. Immediately, I started planning.

The diner had closed early on that same day, but not everyone would leave immediately. Jerry would stay and shut down the place at 11:30 PM. Most likely, he would leave a few night guards to make sure that no one went in or out. It would look terrible to both the public and his workers if he didn't at least try to protect the evidence for the investigation. All I would have to do is get to the diner before Jerry left, but after everyone else had left, and I would be fine. Or so I thought.

* * *

I arrived at the diner at 11:30 PM in a black sweatshirt and jeans, my regular casual wear. The lights inside were turned off, but a security guard stood by the door, a gun on his hip. He didn't look very focused on his post as he listening to his walkman, his eyes closed, leaning up against the building. It looked easy enough to sneak by the man, almost too easy, but I didn't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes, so I walked up to the door, and-

A hand grasped my ankle firmly, holding me in place. My breath caught in my throat. I looked down, my stomach dropping with dread. The "sleeping" security guard looked up at me, his eyes burning with anger.

"I got you, you little…" His voice trailed off. "...Vincent? What…"

"Hey, Stan!" I smiled an easy smile. Stan, the man who typically shared my shifts and had called in sick today, considered himself to be my friend. He was a kind man who had a good heart. One that could easily be manipulated.

"God, I-I-I know this looks bad, but I swear to you, I just forgot a few things in the security office!" I hunched over and outstretched my hands towards him, making myself look pathetic and scared. "It-It's stuff that's really…" I shrugged and sniffed as if I was going to cry, so I hid my face as I had seen countless other older children do as they cried. My acting might have been a little over-dramatic, but it didn't matter. I knew that when people were faced with the threat of tears, they felt sorry for the ones in tears and they let down their defenses.

"Okay, okay, okay." He put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and pulled me into a hug, accidentally winding me. It caught me by surprise. "You go in and get your stuff. Just… try and keep away from the evidence, alright? And don't you tell."

I nodded, barking out a laugh and rubbing my face with my hands, pretending to try to control my emotions.

"I won't tell as long as you don't!" Just a little more…

"Of course not! Who do you think I am, some kind of idiot?" He sounded offended and for a moment, I wondered whether I had done the right thing. When he opened the door with a kind smile, I

"Thank you." I wiped my eyes and went inside, blinking away the rest of them along with my act as the door slammed behind me. Getting passed the guard was the hard part. The operation was going to be a piece of cake.

I flipped up my hood to cover my face, just in case I accidentally left any of the recordings of me in the building intact. It was strange to see the corridor so dark, so desolate, so empty. A corridor which was usually so bright, so happy, so packed with smiling children. I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt the smooth, cold surface of the magnet. All I had to do was wipe the computers, and my job would be done.

My fingers brushed up against a picture of my father, mother, and brother with their backs to a beach house, an ominous sky above them. The picture would have to do as the thing that I had supposedly left in my locker.

I slipped into the security booth and waited for the computers to boot up, leaning back in my chair. I took a glance at the security camera in the room. It whirred rhythmically as it panned across the room scanning it inch by inch. I waited in the darkness for a few seconds, relishing the calmness of the normally stress-filled room.

After about a minute, light poured from the monitor as the chime of the opening screen broke the short silence. I walked over to the chair, slumped back down, and turned back to the monitor. I pressed a button at my feet, exposing the cassette tape inside. It was a normal, large, black VCR, but inside was the information that I needed to keep hidden. I began watching the recent tapes and trying to find which one recorded the death of the kid. This was going to be so easy. Maybe a little too easy.

Suddenly, something caught my attention, a small tap of sorts, like a shoe on the tile floor. Someone had seen me. I knew someone had seen me. I couldn't have a witness. The weight of dread was back again as I looked out of the doorway, trying to spot even the slightest movement. In the corner of the room, something shuffled then went still. I carefully stepped through the pitch black room, taking care that my footfalls were silent. I heard something that sounded like a breath, and I lunged towards the sound at full speed.

 _CRACK!_

I smacked head-first into the wall. There was a small squeak, and I watched as a rodent scuttled into the next room as fast as its tiny legs could carry him. Pain radiated from my head as a long string of curses flew from my mouth.

Damned rats.

Cutting the tapes was an extremely tedious task, but I decided that it was better than being caught, so I snipped away my sins. It took me an hour to erase the evidence, and it caused a hell of a lot of frustration, but at last the job was complete. With a sigh of relief, I headed towards the door, a bounce in my step. There would be no way that the police would know it was me. I was safe. I took a deep breath and felt the weight of dread that had been stuck in my stomach had disappeared along with the data. I laughed quietly to myself. It had been so easy, so simple.

A few steps from the door, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm, making me jump in surprise.

"Vince!" Stan looked worried. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Oh, Stan. Yeah. I found it." I had completely forgotten about him! I brought out the photo and smiled reassuringly.

"That's good." He grinned back at me.

"You look really tired. Here." I pulled a small flask from my pocket. "I'll fill this up for you. You've had a long night."

I went back inside and went immediately to the kitchen. I had come prepared for this type of thing. It was easy to get drugs from practically every Joe or Jane standing on a street corner, and I had gotten a bunch of date rape drugs from a shady dealer in my neighborhood.

I put several of the pills in some juice that was in the fridge for the children, and mixed it until there was no trace of them except a small cloud in the liquid. Stan would have no idea what hit him, and would most likely forget our encounters. As soon as I stepped out the door he came up to me, his eyes scanning me for the small container. I took it out and sloshed around the liquid inside.

"Did you get some water? I'm _dying_ of thirst!"

"Even better." I pulled out the flask. "Juice. The sugar'll help you stay up. It helped me in school!"

He drank the juice as though it was the first bit of liquid he'd had in months. Instantly, his eyebrows knitted in confusion as he stumbled around. He clawed weakly for my arm just before his eyes rolled back into his head.

I waited until I was sure that he was fully unconscious before I started towards my car, enjoying the warm air on my face, the darkness of the nighttime, the quiet, and the alone time. A small, satisfied smile pricked at my lips.

An unwelcome thought began pricking at my subconscious of which I slowly became more aware as time passed. What if my co-workers found out that it was me? They wouldn't keep that from the police just because they had known me for a while. The only one who might consider it would be Joseph. He was kind and loyal, but was very morally driven. He would fight for his or his friends beliefs as long as it was for a good cause, no matter what the odds. That is why he made such a good security guard for children. He really cared. His moral compass would make him turn me in, even if we are friends.

A sharp pain made me glance down at my arm. My nails had dug their way through most of the layers of skin over my scar and a small dot of blood shone red on my skin. The new cut burned and I hissed in discomfort, covering the scratch and wiping the blood away. Luckily it wasn't big or deep enough to bleed more than that dot of blood, but it shocked me enough to get moving again.

I walked back to my car and drove home.

* * *

"I've heard they're gonna shut it down."

"Shut what down? The diner?" I shoved another fork full of eggs into my mouth, keeping eye contact with Joseph. People like eye contact, or at least that's what I've heard.

"Yeah," he glanced up at me with an odd look in his eyes, "Jerry's son's growing up and he'll soon take control of the place anyway. He doesn't like it, so I guess it's better this way."

"Oh." He was being oddly quiet today. Usually, he could hold up both sides of a conversation with only a few laughs and grunts of understanding.

We finished our breakfast in silence, and arrived at the diner. The police were outside, and the doors were taped shut. A man about 25 years old stood outside next to Jerry who I supposed was his son. Jerry and his son were deep in an argument, frantically gesturing towards the diner. Jerry put his hand to his head in exasperation.

"Where's Stan?" I asked no one in particular.

"Fired. He was the only one who was there that night and he's trying to play the amnesia card." A woman named Jane told me, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can you believe that?!"

"God," someone else caught my attention as they hurried passed, "the rumors of the dead children may actually come true."

The rest of the day was a blur of exhausting questions and socializing. As I walked back to my car, someone pulled me into a meeting inside of the diner. Jerry stood on the stage looking old and tired, his hands on his hips, eyes closed, and head down. His son stood behind him in the corner, his arms crossed.

"Uh, listen up." The room went silent as Jerry spoke. "The… uh… The diner is shutting down." A flurry of gasps and moans rang out throughout the crowd. "Although the police are still investigating, we can't handle the bad press. But, in the ashes of the diner rises a new entertainment franchise; Freddy Fazbear's pizzeria. We'll start over, starting with the building. We'll expand this place until it's nearly unrecognizable. Construction starts tomorrow. It'll take several months, but hopefully it'll be a lot more successful. My son, Danny will be the new manager. Anyone who would like to stay is welcome, but everyone is welcome to leave."

About 10 people left, yet Joseph stayed, watching Jerry carefully. Every once in a while, he glanced over at me nervously as if he expected me to leave. I would have no place to go, so I stayed as well.

The three other people who were left were the original employees of the diner, loyal until the end.

Just like Joseph.

Unlike me.

* * *

 _Authors Notes_

 _Heya, guys! REM here again! I'm hoping that that chapter was what you expected from us. Most of the time, if I'm not working at my camp, I'm writing this story. Sometimes, I'm even writing this at camp. Just like now. The kids are away, and I'm waiting for them to come back. It makes me bored to just sit and wait, so I write. And I write. For hours. IT'S REALLY FUN._

 _Anyway, I hope I haven't disappointed people. I had some pretty idiotic ideas about the 70s including drugs in childcare, so I have to admit, if TwoSents wasn't here to write it with me, no one would like this. It would be stupid, and not very well written. Even_ _I_ _would probably hate it, and I'm one of the ones writing it! This story is progressing pretty slowly through our planned timeline, so it might take a while to complete. The next chapter will be another sorta slow one, but then it'll speed up tremendously. I owe all of the best stuff to TwoSents!_

 _I'm hoping we'll be done by the time the summer is over. Once it gets to school time, it's sort of a hiatus time for me, because I have practically no free time. Luckily, because it's the summer, I have ALL free time! In fact, I have so much free time that I get overwhelmed with the free time and end up watching Markiplier or Danisnotonfire or AmazingPhil videos all evening, then flipping out about how little I'm getting done. (Damn you for your charisma, Mark. Damn you.)_

 _For the people from my other profile, I'm so sorry. I just have no excitement for those stories right now. As my excitement for these types of stories peaks during the summer, my excitement for adventure stories peaks during the school year. I don't know why. So, I'll probably finish up with NtH during the school year, and for AaC… I really don't know when I'll finish that one. Its a VERY long term one, and right now, I don't have a solid plot. Really sorry, guys. It's just not coming to me!_

 _The next chapter will probably be done by late next week, but if you review, it may come sooner! Thank you so much, oleg212 for favoriting this story! We love you!_

 _Thanks for reading, and I'll see you on the other side!  
_ _REM_

 _Hello again, dearest of readers. REM said everything important so I'll keep this short. I hope you've enjoyed chapter 2 of our little story. As always, favorites, follows, constructive criticism, and other such positive things toward or writing effort is appreciated. I do hope you'll stick around for charter three. Then you can read chapter four, then five..._

 _This next one is going to be a doozy, dear reader._

 _A doozy. ~T.S._


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